


Sunshine and Storm Clouds

by WishingOnWhishaw



Category: Easy Allies RPF, Gametrailers RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkwardness, Denial of Feelings, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Heartache, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Making Out, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Other, Pining, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingOnWhishaw/pseuds/WishingOnWhishaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian agrees to meet Brad's friend for one of their semi-regular brunch meetups. What Ian doesn't realise is that she is already very familiar with this friend, after going home with a man she met at the bar. It seems Ian is just having one of those weeks where she makes one mistake after another. Not that she’d exactly call Michael Huber a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine and Storm Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this tumblr post](http://jollyhuber.tumblr.com/post/147822924726/zaynsfrogdoes-the-i-slept-with-you-the-other-day). Thank you to Casey for helping me iron out some problems I was having. Chapter two is in the works, but for now, enjoy!

“Is it okay if my friend comes with us later?” Brad asks over the phone. “He's been kinda weird lately, I think it'll be good for him to just have fun for a couple of hours.” And, of course, Ian thinks nothing of it, because why would she?  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Ian says almost automatically.  
  
“He's really cool, I promise.”  
  
“Brad, I already said yes,” laughs Ian. “It's fine, I'm sure he's great.”  
  
What Ian doesn't realise is that she is already very familiar with how great Brad’s friend is. Nor does she realise that she is, in fact, the very reason that said friend has been acting weirdly. It seems Ian is just having one of those weeks where she makes one mistake after another. Not that she’d exactly call Michael Huber a mistake.  
  


* * *

 

Ian practically never goes clubbing. In fact, she wouldn't even call this clubbing. She's alone at the bar, because Elyse cancelled on her last minute, and Ian was here already, so she figured she may as well get a drink. It's still fairly early in the evening, only about six o'clock, and so there’s virtually nobody here who is drunk out of their minds. Ian expects that will change in a couple of hours, but she doesn't plan on sticking around long enough to find out. She doesn’t drink herself, and generally, she finds people who’ve had too much alcohol are incredibly obnoxious.  
  
She sips at her non-alcoholic cocktail, not in any hurry. She has nowhere to be, and so she takes her time, doesn’t pay much attention to the other patrons. Ian’s people watching, idly thinking about rescheduling the plans she and Elyse had. Then a loud voice startles her out of her thoughts, as a man yells a drink order seemingly right next to her ear.  
  
“Hey,” the man says as Ian turns to look at him. He smiles like Ian’s an old friend whom he hasn’t seen for years, but Ian’s pretty sure she’s never seen him before in her life. “What are you drinking?”  
  
“A Shirley Temple,” Ian answers, a little bit wary. Being approached by overly-friendly men whilst sat at a bar doesn’t typically have the best connotations. The man simply nods, his smile unwavering.  
  
“Taking it easy, I can get appreciate that,” says the stranger with a look of approval. Why he thinks Ian needs his approval in the first place is a mystery, but she doesn’t want to be confrontational. Not yet, at least. If she’s provoked, then maybe things will get a little heated, but she’s not looking for a fight. “Are you waiting for someone?”  
  
“No, my friend bailed on me,” replies Ian, honestly. She hopes if she’s blunt enough the guy will take a hint and realise she wants to be left alone.  
  
“Dude, mine too!” The man exclaims, and Ian notices his arm jerk a little, as if he’d been about to reach out and touch her, but then thought better of it. His face falls then, and he looks almost embarrassed. “Oh, uh… Is it okay if I call you dude?”  
  
“What?” Is Ian’s reply, her face scrunched up into a frown. She has no idea what he’s talking about, and she can’t shake the feeling that there’s something weird about this guy.  
  
“I mean, that doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”  
  
“Why would that make me uncomfortable?”  
  
“Because,” the stranger says, gesturing at Ian as if that would demonstrate his point. It does not; Ian is still confused, and she gives him an expectant look, waiting for him to go on. “Because you’re… Well, I don’t know, I don’t want to assume anything.”  
  
“Assume anything about what?” Ian insists, still not understanding.  
  
“About whether you’re a dude or not,” explains the man, and he looks nervous, like he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say.  
  
“Oh,” Ian exhales softly. Well that was unexpected. She looks at the now timid man before her for a moment, before letting a grin spread across her face. Ian realises now what he means; remembers her purple nail polish, her tomboy femme T-shirt, and her cardigan which she got from the women’s department. It feels oddly comforting to know that not everyone makes presumptions about her gender, and she’s filled with a quiet confidence, feeling like she’s been acknowledged.  
  
Ian’s desire to excuse herself has been replaced by a newfound respect for this stranger, and she’s grateful that she got lucky, that that for once she’s met someone who’s thoughtful and not judgemental.  
  
“I’m not, but it’s fine. You can call me that,” Ian assures.  
  
“Can I call you by your name?” The stranger asks in reply, with a hopeful look on his face. It’s such a smooth line, but the man looks almost childlike in his excitement, and the contrast between his words and his expression makes Ian laugh.  
  
“Yeah, that works too,” she chuckles. “I’m Ian.”  
  
“Ian,” the man echoes, nodding his head. “Hi Ian! I’m Huber. Or Mike, but most people call me Huber.”  
  
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Huber,” Ian says, raising her glass with a playful grin. Huber nods, tips his beer bottle so it clinks against Ian’s cocktail.  
  
“Nice to meet you too, Ian.” They both take a sip from their respective drinks, and then Ian laughs again.  
  
“I think that’s the most formal meeting I’ve ever had at a bar,” she comments. Huber looks a little sheepish, tries to hide it by taking another swig of beer.  
  
“Sorry, I don’t really do this that often.”  
  
“Do what, exactly?” Ian teases, a playful smirk on her face. It’s good-natured, light and harmless, because Ian’s quickly starting to warm up to Mike, and she kind of enjoys seeing him flustered.  
  
“Talk to cute girls at bars?” Huber replies, his voice lifting towards the end of his sentence, like he’s not sure of himself, like he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He doesn’t, but Ian’s not sure what she’s doing either, so it’s fine.  
  
It’s really not the response Ian had been expecting, but she’s not unhappy. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, but she’s amused by Huber, by his uncertainty, and it makes her want to keep going, to keep teasing him.  
  
“You think I’m a cute girl?” She questions, smirk on her face, her body turned towards him. Huber shrugs, looks down so he doesn’t have to meet Ian’s eyes. He tries to hide how worried he is, to mask his uncertainty, to seem surer of himself.  
  
“I mean, you’re cute,” he offers. “Still not sure if the girl part is okay.”  
  
“Huber, you’re fine,” Ian assures with a soft laugh, reaching out to rest her fingers on his shoulder. “Stop worrying so much.”  
  
“Sorry,” he answers with a nervous chuckle, and Ian sees him relax a little, which puts her at ease too. “I just don’t wanna offend you or anything.”  
  
“Trust me, you trying to be considerate is not going to offend me,” says Ian, ducking her head a little to meet Huber’s gaze, flashing him a small smile. “You’re okay. But, for the record, I’d rather be called a girl than a guy.”  
  
“Then yeah, I don’t talk to cute girls at bars that often,” Huber reiterates, smiling nervously back at Ian.  
  
“I don’t usually come to bars much in the first place, so don’t worry. I guess we’re both a little out of our depths.”  
  
“I take it this isn’t really your scene?” Huber asks, nodding to the non-alcoholic drink in Ian’s hand.  
  
“Yeah, not really. I don’t drink, so,” she shrugs, and Huber nods his head quickly in understanding. “What about you, you come here often?” Ian asks, giving an over-the-top waggle of her eyebrows which makes Huber bark out a laugh. His smile is wide, and Ian can see he’s trying to contain his laughter, but he’s beaming, and honestly, Ian thinks it’s cute that Huber is just brimming with happiness.  
  
“Not really,” Huber answers when his laughter has subsided enough for him to talk. “Only when I want to catch up with some friends, or if I’m celebrating, y’know?”  
  
“I get that,” Ian hums. She looks Huber over again, taking in more than just his face for the first time. “Better to stay at home with some beers and a video game, right?” She jokes, nodding at Huber’s Bowser shirt.  
  
“Dude! Nothing beats sitting down with some beers to play video games. Get some friends over, just hang out, kick some ass on Mario Kart. I love it.”  
  
“You won’t kick any ass on Mario Kart playing as Bowser,” Ian contends. Huber looks offended, like Ian had just kicked a puppy in front of him.  
  
“Bowser is the best character,” replies Huber, defensively.  
  
“He is literally the worst character in the whole game,” insists Ian.  
  
“I will go with you to my apartment, right now, and I will boot up Mario Kart Eight just to prove to you that Bowser is totally _not_ the worst character in that game,” Huber declares dramatically, his index finger pointed and pressing onto the bar as he speaks.  
  
“Seriously?” Ian laughs, unsure if Huber is just being really dramatic.  
  
“Seriously,” Huber echoes, looking Ian in the eye. “You and me, my place, Mario Kart. Let’s do it.”  
  
“You’re asking me to come home with you,” Ian points out, one of her eyebrows arched. She’s not sure what to make of this development, is becoming a little wary of Huber again. “If this is your way of picking up women, I gotta tell you, it needs some work.”  
  
“No, Ian, come on! I’m not, this isn’t— I’m not hitting on you. I seriously just wanna beat you at Nintendo games.”  
  
“For real?”  
  
“I promise,” Huber says seriously, laying his palm over his chest. “Nothing sketchy, no advances, no sleazy comments. Just me, you, and the Wii U.”  
  
“That’s a good rhyme,” Ian commends with a grin. She can’t help but laugh at Huber, can’t help but be infected by his happiness.  
  
“Good enough for you to accept my challenge? Or are you a coward?” Asks Huber, his voice overly sinister for dramatic effect, his eyes narrowed as he leans in toward Ian.  
  
“Sure, what the hell. I’ll show you just how terrible Bowser is,” agrees Ian. Huber’s act drops and his face lights up, happy that she’s agreed. His arm twitches again, but this time he actually does grab on to Ian’s shoulder.  
  
“Alright! Finish your drink and prepare to eat your words, Ian.”  
  


* * *

 

“One more game, come on,” Mike insists, giving Ian a pleading look.

  
“Huber, I’ve beat you like six times, all as different characters,” Ian laughs. “I think I’ve proven my point.”  
  
“He’s not that bad!”  
  
“He is, _and_ you insist on using his awful car, which can’t turn for shit and makes him even more terrible.”  
  
“Maybe you’re just better than me at Mario Kart,” Huber suggests, refusing to admit that his favourite character is the worst one.  
  
“Are you saying that you’re bad at Mario Kart?” Teases Ian, smirking.  
  
“No, I’m just saying that I’m worse than you,” Huber answers, crossing his arms. Ian laughs, bumping shoulders with Huber, who in turn starts to grin, happy because Ian is happy.  
  
“Yeah, from what I’ve seen, you’re not the best at this game,” Ian chuckles. Huber pretends to look offended, his jaw dropping as he clutches at his chest.  
  
“That’s harsh, Ian! I’m doing my best!”  
  
“I know you are, baby doll,” replies Ian, sympathetically. She reaches out, rests a reassuring hand on Huber’s leg just above his knee. The pet name makes Huber do a sort of double take, but all he sees is Ian beside him, smiling, touching him, and they feel so close that Huber has to force himself to remember what they mean to one another.  
  
They’ve spent the last two hours playfully teasing each other, an almost flirtatious banter back and forth. It’s not an active effort on the part of either of them; they just fall into it naturally, because they’re comfortable and they like one another. Huber keeps catching himself though, will say something and realise how it must sound. His promise to Ian rings in his head— _no advances, no sleazy comments_ —and he berates himself mentally, forces himself to lay off on the affection.  
  
It’s hard, because Huber is affectionate with everyone. He knows that, has been told by people in the past that he has personal space issues, that he’s too tactile, too enthusiastic, that sometimes he just needs to take a step back. He knows that, but it’s still hard for him to stop it. Especially with Ian, because she’s funny and he likes her, wants to be her friend if nothing more. And Ian seems to be giving as good as she gets, but maybe she’s like Huber, maybe she doesn’t realise what she’s doing.  
  
Huber won’t admit to it out loud, but the reason he's so eager to play another game of Mario Kart is because he just wants Ian to stay. Even with their teasing, he knows that Ian’s only here to play video games with him, and that's perfectly fine. Huber can live with that; he never expected anything more from her.  
  
Only he's having such a good time, and Ian seems done with racing, but Huber isn't ready to say goodbye, not yet, not when he's having this much fun, when he's enjoying Ian's company like this. He wants to spend hours with Ian, wants to keep making her laugh to see her smile. He wants to get to know her, to be more than just some guy she met at a bar one night and never saw again.  
  
“Well, I might not be the best at Mario Kart, but I am pretty good at cooking. You hungry?” Huber asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.  
  
“Are you offering to make me dinner right now?” Ian asks, with an eyebrow raise which Huber is coming to think of as her signature expression.  
  
“I'm offering to make _us_ dinner,” Huber corrects gently. “If you don't have anywhere else to be?”  
  
“Nope, I've got no plans. I cleared my schedule and got bailed on, remember?”  
  
“Oh yeah. So, you'll stay for dinner?”  
  
“I'll stay for dinner, Huber,” Ian confirms with a grin. “This is turning out to be quite the date, huh?” She adds, teasing. Mike is getting up from the couch, but he freezes upon hearing those words, worried that he's giving the wrong impression, that Ian's annoyed at him, that he’s made her uncomfortable.

“N-no!” He cries quickly. He hasn't moved, so he's given time for Ian to get up, and she stands before him now, frowning softly, confused by his panicked outburst. “We're just friends, right? Friends can have dinner.”

“They can and they will, Huber. Don’t worry,” Ian instructs in a gentle voice, laying her hand on Huber’s shoulder. “I'm just playing with you.”

“Right, yeah,” Huber nods, relaxing and smiling back at her. “I got it. Just two friends, having dinner. Totally not a date,” he says, more to himself than anything. Ian forces a smile, tries to look reassuring despite the fact her attempts at flirting have failed.  
  
She isn't sure why she cares so much, isn't sure if she's just teasing so she can see Huber blush or if there's something genuine behind it. The sinking feeling of rejection which snakes its way through her suggests it's the latter, but she refuses to dwell on that. She doesn't want to think about having feelings for Huber, about how much he might mean to her already.  
  
Ian likes him. She knows that much, knows she likes being here, that she’s not in any hurry to get away. In fact, she’s a little relieved that she gets to stick around, that she can have Mike make dinner for them and share his company a while longer, because he’s nice. Mike Huber is more than nice, he’s sunshine that bursts through storm clouds and he’s easy laughter on carefree weekends, and he’s beautiful. Ian thinks he’s beautiful, and it scares her, because she barely knows him.  
  
All Ian really knows is Mike’s name and his favourite Mario character, yet Ian feels so comfortable, wants so badly to make him smile, to get him excited because he’s adorable with an infectious laugh. Ian wants to know the little details about him, how he takes his coffee, what toppings he likes on his pizza, if he cries when watching movies and what is guaranteed to cheer him up. She shouldn’t care about any of that.  
  
Ian should know better, she should stop flirting, should work on being friends with Huber and maybe consider more when they’re better acquainted. That would be the logical thing to do. But Ian’s heart keeps betraying her, makes her chest feel funny when Huber smiles, and she has to keep doing it, has to keep making him blush and grin because she gets such a rush from it.  
  
So Ian doesn’t think about how she barely knows him, can already see that logic isn’t prevailing, so she gives in. She succumbs to her desire to make Huber laugh, her desire to tease and flirt and take advantage of the fact Huber seems to have no concept of personal space. The last one isn’t hard to do, Ian realises, as Huber leads them out of the living room, talking about dinner plans.  
  
Huber’s kitchen is small, and Ian can see that there really isn’t going to be enough room for the two of them to both be working in there. Still, she follows him, lets him offer suggestions for their meal as she looks around, takes everything in. Not that there’s a lot to see; it’s a standard kitchen, small and plain, with white cabinets and decent appliances which are neither top of the range nor outdated and in need of replacement.  
  
“I should warn you, I’m lactose intolerant and don’t have any Lactaid pills,” Ian says, having forgotten about it until now. “If that’s gonna be a pain in the ass, then I’ll just have sandwich or something.”  
  
“Ian, no, you’re fine,” Huber assures, pulling open a cupboard and looking around. “You’re my guest, I can’t just make you a sandwich for dinner. I have pasta, we could do something with that? Or noodles?” Ian hums thoughtfully at the options, comes up behind Huber to look over his shoulder. She’s pressed against his back, up on her tiptoes as she peeks into Huber’s cupboards, and Huber holds his breath because she’s so close and he doesn’t know what to do, what to say. So he does nothing, breathes a soft sigh of relief when Ian backs off again, just enough that they’re not touching. She’s still close, but he can relax again for now.  
  
“Noodles sounds good,” she says with a grin, and Huber nods his agreement.  
  
“Do you like chicken? I could make some chow mein?”  
  
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Ian replies, enthusiastically. She watches Huber pull the packet of dried noodles down, then takes a step back when he moves towards the sink. She mills around while Huber pulls out pans and utensils, sets the kettle on to boil. “You want me to do anything?” She asks, feeling slightly useless.  
  
“Oh yeah, sure! I need to make the marinade, you can do the vegetables, if you want?”  
  
“Okay. I feel bad making you do all the work,” Ian admits.  
  
“Well, you shouldn’t, because I’m supposed to be making dinner for you. But this will be fun! You’ll be like my sous chef,” Huber declares, setting a knife and chopping board down on the counter in front of Ian.  
  
“I’ll just nod and pretend I know what that means,” she laughs. “Okay, so what do I need?”  
  
Huber lists off ingredients and tells Ian where to find them, and Ian dutifully goes off, fetching whatever is needed. Huber, meanwhile, is pulling out bottles and measuring spoons, doing his own thing. They work in tandem getting their meal ready, making easy, playful conversation as they go.  
  
The space is unfamiliar, and so Ian is mostly just taking orders from Huber, chopping vegetables or fetching something from the refrigerator, or pulling a jar off Huber’s spice rack for him. They keep bumping into one another as they move about the cramped space, hips colliding or fingers brushing as they hand things off to each other. Each time it happens, Ian flashes Huber a grin, and Huber responds by ducking his head. It does nothing to hide his expression though, and Ian still catches the shy smile on his face, the way his cheeks flush a little. It’s adorable, and Ian wants to keep doing it, wants to keep making Huber smile like that.  
  
There’s an odd tension which permeates their carefree attitudes, one which has been lingering, building over the past few hours they’ve spent pressed side by side on Huber’s couch. Ian has become aware of it, has since made the conscious decision to keep flirting, because she enjoys it, and Huber’s cute when he gets those little flushes of embarrassment. She hopes she’s not pushing things too much, that she’s not reading the signs wrong, but Mike isn’t shying away, isn’t making any efforts to stop her, so she assumes that they’re okay.  
  
Ian thinks back to Huber calling her cute, to Huber’s panicked look when Ian had joked about this being a date, and she surmises that maybe Huber wants this too. She wonders if making him promise that he wasn’t hitting on her has made him think she’s not interested, and maybe back at the bar she wasn’t. But Mike has grown on her quickly, with all his enthusiasm, the concern and kindness he’s shown her, and Ian’s fucked. But Huber’s cute and he makes her laugh, so she’s willing to jump in headfirst for a change.  
  
Ian finishes her chopping, puts everything away before turning her attention to Huber again. He’s just finished cutting the chicken breasts into strips is placing them into a bowl of what Ian knows to be soy sauce and Shaoxing wine, along with some other seasonings.  
  
Huber can feel Ian behind him again, looking over his shoulder, and so he takes his time mixing everything together, putting it into the refrigerator beside him, until he has no choice but to turn and face her. Not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just intense, tempts Huber to think things about Ian that he promised he wouldn’t.  
  
“That needs to marinate for a while before we can cook anything,” Huber informs her, makes himself speak slowly, to seem calm and composed. Ian sees right through it, sees he’s holding back, and decides to finally do something, to cut to the chase and stop avoiding whatever this thing between them is.  
  
Ian moves forward, backs Huber against the counter, and Huber’s breath catches in his throat because she’s so close and she’s smiling at him and he has no idea what’s happening.  
  
“So we have some time to kill?” She asks, and if Huber didn’t know better, he’d say she sounded flirtatious. But Ian doesn’t want that, he knows, and he needs to stop projecting his stupid feelings onto her.  
  
“Y-yeah, I guess we do,” Mike nods, manages to give Ian a small smile. “We could probably go for another round in Mario Kart?”  
  
“We could,” Ian nods, smirks at Huber’s stutter. He seems nervous, and Ian just hopes it’s for a good reason, and not because she’s making him uncomfortable. “But I might have a better idea. If you’re up for it?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, sure, what is it?” Huber questions, quelling down the hopeful spark in his chest. It’s increasing difficult when Ian is grinning at him though, when she’s making ambiguous comments which Huber’s brain is taking out of context.  
  
“Does that promise of no advances only cover you?” Ian asks, one hand resting on the counter behind Huber. They’re not even touching, but it feels so intimate, the way she meets his eyes with a playful grin.  
  
“That was to make you comfortable,” Huber answers, as calmly as he possibly can. He’s freaking out internally, his brain going a thousand miles a minute because he’s not dreaming, and Ian likes him, Ian is flirting with him, but Huber can’t seem too eager, doesn’t want to scare her off. “If you wanna make some advances, then I think we’re okay.”  
  
“I’ve been trying to make some advances all night,” Ian replies, that teasing grin on her face again. She moves her other hand, the one not on the countertop, and rests it gently on Huber’s hip. “I was starting to think you genuinely weren’t interested. Not that I’d have a problem with that, but,” she shrugs, not finishing her sentence.  
  
“But what?” Huber insists, standing up a little straighter, daring to move arm, wrapping it behind the small of Ian’s back, holding her gently.  
  
“But, I kind of want to kiss you.”  
  
“Only kind of?” Asks Huber, with a teasing grin of his own. He’s feeling a little more confident and it makes a huge smile break across Ian’s face. She loves this, loves their easy banter, their flirting which Ian now knows isn’t out of place.  
  
“If I say I really want to kiss you, will you let me?”  
  
“Okay. But you have to mean it.”  
  
“Deal,” Ian nods. She leans in, tilts her head, and she’s still not touching him, aside from the hand on Mike’s hip, but he can feel her breath and her face is so close that Huber can just about meet her gaze. “I really want to kiss you, Huber,” she murmurs, slow and measured, earnest in a way that makes Huber feel winded.  
  
“Go ahead,” breathes Huber in response, and he wasn’t expecting to sound so breathless, but his heart is in his throat and it’s suddenly dawned on him how much he wants this. Ian doesn’t wait for anything else, closes that small distance which she’d left between them.  
  
Her lips meet Huber’s in a kiss which starts gentle, timid, like neither of them are quite sure of themselves. Ian’s been waiting for this, sure, but she doesn’t want to be overbearing. Huber can feel that she’s holding back, can tell that she keeps pushing forward only to catch herself and pull away again. So Huber wraps his arm a little tighter around her, pulls Ian in and tilts his head, pressing into the kiss.  
  
Ian gasps against his mouth, her fingers gripping his shirt at his hip and Huber briefly worries that he’s misread the situation. Only before he can doubt himself enough to pull back and ask what’s wrong, Ian’s other hand comes up, holds Huber’s neck and draws him in again.  
  
This kiss is deeper, more heated, and now Huber’s moaning against her mouth as Ian’s body presses against him, pushes him back against the counter. Her fingers are trying and failing to get purchase in his short hair, but she makes up for it with the way her tongue moves against Huber’s, the way she holds his waist and presses their hips together.  
  
Huber’s overcome with how good this feels, how much he needed this. He keeps one arm on her back, brings the other up to her side, fingers splayed on her ribs, over her T-shirt, holding her body close to his. It’s fast and intense and Huber loves it, is so willing to let Ian push him against the counter and kiss him senseless. He keeps it up until he realizes that he still needs to breathe, ducks away and looks at her with dark eyes and swollen lips  
  
“Fuck, Ian,” he rasps, feeling extremely flushed and dishevelled.  
  
“Is this—are you okay? Is this okay?”  
  
“God, yeah, I'm good, just,” Huber pauses, trying to find the words, but they don't come.  
  
“You don't wanna stop?”  
  
“No! Please, no. This, is great, I… You're an amazing kisser.”  
  
“That's not all I'm amazing at,” Ian answers, cocky, smirking at Huber whose eyes are now wide.  
  
“Oh my god, _Ian._ ”

“Was that too much? Sorry, we can just do the kissing, forget I—” Ian is cut off by Huber pressing a rough kiss to her mouth, their teeth clacking together as she's taken by surprise. It doesn't last long, Huber only staying enough to prove his point, to shut Ian up, then he's pulling away again.

“I wanna see what else you're amazing at,” Huber says, and his voice is husky, sends shivers down Ian's spine. This is the most confident, the most sure of himself Huber’s been all night, and she loves it. She slides a leg between Huber’s, really presses up against him. Ian gives a slow grind of her hips just to see how Huber will react, and she isn't disappointed. Huber groans, grips onto Ian a little tighter, his own hips jerking at the touch.

“You wanna do this here?” Asks Ian, the hand she’d kept on Huber’s waist moving over the backs of his thighs, over his ass, and it's distracting enough that he has to take a few moments to think about the question.

“No, bedroom,” he answers finally, with a decisive nod. He takes the hand that's currently on his leg and gently pulls it away, threading his fingers through Ian's. “Come on.”

  
Their chicken chow mein remains in the fridge, uncooked and forgotten about for the night, in favour of other, more exciting things.  
  


* * *

 

Huber wakes the next morning, and he finds himself alone. The bed is cold beside him, and he figures Ian’s gone. He looks around, sees no note, no phone number, no way for him to find Ian again. The disappointment settles low in his stomach, makes him feel slightly numb, though Huber knows he has no reason to feel this way.  
  
He isn’t sure why he expected Ian to be there when he woke up. Rationally, Huber knows it was naïve of him to even believe for a second that he’d get to spend his morning with her. Though, a hastily written goodbye note wasn’t too much to hope for, was it? He surmises that it must have been, because Ian’s gone, and she’s left nothing behind. He hasn’t got anything to signify that Ian was even here last night, aside from the depressed pillow beside him, and the scent of an unfamiliar perfume which lingers on Huber’s sheets.  
  
What stings about it is that Ian wasn't a hook-up. At least, Huber hadn’t thought of her as one. He's had one night stands before. Huber has gone out and got drunk, has stumbled home with people he'd met only hours before. He's been the one to sneak out of an unfamiliar apartment, and he's awoken to scrawled numbers on scraps of paper, knowing he’d never again see or hear from the person who owned them, never called to see if they were even real. Only Ian is a different story.

Huber hadn't assumed that anything would happen with Ian, until something actually did happen. Neither of them were drunk, Huber hadn't hit on her, hadn't implied anything. In fact, he’d denied having any intentions about hooking up with Ian. Because Huber genuinely hadn't wanted to; Ian seemed disinterested and that was fine, Huber could live with it. Yet somehow, their heated games of Mario Kart had devolved to making out in Huber’s kitchen.

And what really threw Huber for a loop was the fact Ian had been the one to initiate everything. She had kissed him, had pressed up against him and taken Huber’s breath away.  
  
Huber could have handled a meaningless fling, or he could have handled a harmless friendship between himself and Ian. He was struggling to handle this though, because now Ian was neither of those things. She fell somewhere in between, not quite a friend, not quite a lover, and Mike didn’t know how he was supposed to feel.  
  
Huber had thought they’d had a good time last night, not even in _that_ way, but just as two people enjoying each other’s company. He’d enjoyed talking to Ian, had had fun playing games with her. He would have happily forgotten their bedroom endeavours if it meant getting a chance to get to know her, to become friends with her. Only Ian clearly didn’t want the same thing, didn’t want to hear from Huber again, and he had to accept that.  
  
Though he didn’t have to accept it right away. For now, Huber was going to curl back up under his covers and feel slightly sorry for himself, mourning the loss of what he thought could have been a great friendship, if nothing else.  
  


* * *

 

The diner Ian meets Brad and his friend in is one she’s been to plenty of times before, a place her and Brad frequently go to when they’re in need of a catch up, when they haven’t seen one another for a while. The walls are painted a buttercup yellow, but neither the paint nor the LA sun is making Ian feel happy or relaxed right now.

  
Sat across the booth from Ian is Brad, against the wall, elbows on the table. A familiar sight from Ian’s perspective. Only this situation isn’t familiar, because Brad’s friend is someone Ian has very recently become overly acquainted with.  
  
Mike Huber sits at Brad’s side, next to his best friend. He’s uncharacteristically silent, had blanched when Ian slid onto the bench opposite him, and he’s barely spoken a word in the ten minutes since, aside from to quietly greet Ian after Brad had introduced them, and then again when the waitress came to take their order.  
  
Ian’s in a similar state of shock, is consumed by awkwardness, by guilt, because the pieces are all falling into place and she’s joining the dots in her mind and she hates the picture that’s forming. She realises all at once that Huber’s been miserable, that Brad has had to intervene and bring him out to brunch because Mike has been acting weird. And she doubts that Huber’s low mood and the fact she left without saying goodbye is a coincidence, especially given that Huber won’t look at, let alone speak to her.  
  
“I’m really surprised you guys have never met before,” Brad says, trying to break the silence, because nobody else is speaking and it’s making his skin itch. Mike is being even weirder than he has been for the past few days, and that’s making Brad a little concerned. Ian's muteness can at least be attributed to caution if not nerves, but Huber is never speechless for this long, not when he doesn't need to be, even if he’s miserable.  
  
Ian offers a thoughtful hum of agreement, bringing her eyes back to Brad. She doesn't say anything for a moment, tries to think of the best way to approach this. Her initial thought had been to pretend she'd never seen Huber before in her life, but apparently neither of them were very subtle. Brad looks suspicious, and she knows they can't keep this up. So she switches tactics.  
  
“Y'know, I feel like we have,” she muses, narrowing her eyes as she seems to study Huber's features. “I'm sure I've seen that face before.”  
  
Huber splutters on his coffee, and Brad turns with concern on his face, reaches up to grab Huber’s shoulder instinctively.  
  
“Dude, are you okay?” Brad asks. Ian thought she'd made a good start on making things seem normal, but Brad looks suspicious again now.

  
“Yeah, fine,” Huber assures quickly, waving Brad off. “Just uh, went down the wrong pipe. I'm good.” Brad scrutinises Huber for a few moments before apparently believing him, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to Ian.  
  
“You've probably seen pictures of me and Mike,” offers Brad, jumping right back in to their previous conversation.  
  
“You would think so,” Ian nods. “How long have you known each other?” She questions, looking between them. Huber looks ill, and Ian's forced again to push down her guilt in favour of playing it cool.  
  
“Since first grade,” Brad answers. “We’ve pretty much been friends our whole lives.”  
  
“Best co-op buddies,” Huber adds on, smiling, but his voice sounds flat. Brad laughs anyway, nods in agreement and elects to ignore Huber’s lack of emotion.  
  
“Yeah, dude. Hey, Ian likes games too, we should all hang out and do some local co-op some time.”  
  
“Sounds cool,” Huber agrees with absolutely no enthusiasm. Brad shoots him a confused look, one that silently asks _‘What the hell is up with you?’_ and though Ian notices it, she doesn’t pay it much mind, because she knows why Huber isn’t so on board with that idea. Though, to Brad, it looks like Huber hates her, despite only knowing Ian for ten minutes.  
  
“I mean, I don’t want to get in the way of you two having fun,” Ian laughs, giving Huber an out. The least she can do in this situation is show some sympathy, and not jump at the chance to hang out with him again. Not that she’s completely opposed to the idea, but Huber looks like he’s in physical pain just being in the same room as her, and so she’s not really eager to subject Mike to more discomfort.  
  
“Well, we can still have fun if you’re there,” Brad refutes. “Right Huber?”  
  
“Sure,” Huber shrugs, looking down at his coffee as he stirs more sugar into it. Brad looks ready to ask him what the problem is, but before he gets the chance, Huber’s head snaps up again, and he’s getting to his feet.  
  
“Where are you going?” Brad questions, frowning as he looks up at his friend.  
  
“Bathroom. I’ll be right back,” promises Huber as he begins to walk away. Ian looks over her shoulder to watch him go until she hears Brad sigh quietly, prompting her to turn around again. Brad is staring at Huber’s retreating back, with a look on his face that Ian would describe as a mixture of sadness and worry.  
  
“I’m sorry Huber’s being so weird,” Brad says quietly, after he’s watched the man in question disappear.  
  
“He’s not normally like this?” Ian enquires, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like she hasn’t also noticed how quiet and awkward Huber is, like Ian doesn’t know this is all her fault.  
  
“No dude, are you kidding me? Mike’s like the most hyperactive person I’ve ever known. He just gets into these moods sometimes when something happens which upsets him.”  
  
“Something like what? You’re his best friend, doesn’t he tell you what’s bothering him?” Ian fishes, wondering if Huber has said anything, but Brad shakes his head.  
  
“He doesn’t like complaining. He’s always so positive, and when he’s not, he doesn’t wanna bring anyone else down with him. Says there’s no point spreading negativity. He usually opens up eventually, just because he’s bad at keeping his mouth shut, but for now? I have no goddamn clue what’s wrong. Your guess is probably as good as mine.”  
  
Ian neglects to say that her guess is that she made Mike feel like shit by running away from him, and that her guess is, in fact, a lot more likely than whatever story Brad has come up with to explain Huber’s behaviour. She hums thoughtfully, nods her head, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. There’s still guilt churning in her stomach, and though she barely knows him, Ian feels like Huber deserves better, doesn’t deserve to be miserable like this, not because of her.  
  
Huber returns, sits down again beside Brad and flashes a forced smile to the two of them. There’s no light in his eyes, none of that genuine enthusiasm which had pulled at Ian’s heartstrings before. Now it hits her in the chest in a different way, makes her ache a little knowing this is her fault. She notices that Huber doesn’t meet her eyes when he looks at her, and that’s fine. Ian doesn’t blame him.  
  
“You okay man?” Brad asks, brow furrowed.  
  
“I’m good,” Huber nods, reaching up, placing a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Stop worrying so much about me.” Ian smiles at the fond gesture between them, chuckles as Brad playfully shoves Huber off him.  
  
“I’m not worried,” he scoffs, but both Ian and Huber know that he’s lying.  
  
Their food arrives, interrupting the playful bickering between Mike and Brad. The three of them stay mostly quiet as they eat, with Brad and Ian occasionally making light conversation, accompanied by a rare interjection from Huber.  
  
As Ian eats, she’s able to forget, for a moment, how much of a mess this whole situation is. She’s able to enjoy herself and push her guilt aside, instead savouring this good food and the pleasant company. She realises it’s a lot more difficult to notice Huber’s silence when his mouth is stuffed full of eggs, but she overlooks that.  
  
Huber’s actually enjoying his meal too, and whilst he doesn’t actively seek out conversation, he will offer a comment, usually in response to something Brad has said. Ian’s just happy he’s saying something.  
  
When they’re done, Ian and Brad continue their conversation, and all the while Huber just looks uncomfortable. He’s shifting in his seat, still refusing to look Ian in the eye, and he’s not really contributing to the discussion they’re having. Ian’s not even sure that he’s paying attention. She checks her phone, looks at the time, and sighs.  
  
“Well, I gotta get going,” she lies smoothly. Her tone sounds dejected, and Brad’s face falls, but he nods in understanding.  
  
“No problem dude. We’ll catch up with you another time? Sort out a games night or something?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” nods Ian, getting to her feet. She puts some money down on the table—enough to cover her meal and her drink, along with a tip—before shimmying out of the booth. “I’ll see you around,” she says to Brad, giving a small wave. Then her attention turns to Huber, and he’s looking at her. It’s the first time he’s met her eyes all day, but his expression is completely unreadable. “It was nice meeting you, Huber,” Ian says softly, a little breathless from the intense stare she’s under.  
  
“Yeah,” Huber mumbles. “Nice meeting you.” Ian nods and leaves as quickly as she possibly can without looking too suspicious. She doesn’t look back at the two men she’s left in the booth, doesn’t want to know if Brad finally picked up on something, if Huber’s being interrogated about the tense exchange of goodbyes. She just needs to get away.  
  
She steps out into the sunshine, pulling her sunglasses off her T-shirt and putting them on over her regular glasses. She walks a couple of blocks until she reaches a park, where she goes and sits down on a bench.  
  
Ian sighs to herself, thinks things over in her head, thinks about how much of a goddamn mess she’s got herself into. She feels conflicted, unsure of herself and definitely unsure of what to do. Ian has always thought of herself as someone who is just unlucky with relationships, but this really takes the cake.  
  
So Ian does the only thing she can think of doing in times like these: she takes her phone out and texts Elyse. It’s not a good solution by any means, but it’s all she’s got.  
  
“Are you busy tonight?” Ian sends. She barely waits five minutes before her phone chimes with a message alert.  
  
“Nope. What’s up?” Is Elyse’s response.  
  
“You down for a girls night?”  
  
“Always  <3 is it girl trouble? do I need to bring ice cream??”  
  
“Guy trouble.” Ian replies, simply. Elyse responds by sending a message comprised of the bandaged-head emoji repeated six times, and then immediately after adds:  
  
“I’ll double up on the ice cream” along with an ice cream emoji and a series of hearts. It makes Ian laugh softly, and she’s glad she has a friend like Elyse in her life.  
  
“You’re going to make me ill.” Ian texts back.  
  
“You think I don’t have tons of dairy free Ben and Jerry’s stockpiled for you? What kind of monster do you take me for????”  
  
“The best kind” Ian answers, before also sending a text that’s nothing more than heart emojis, interspersed with girls holding hands.  
  
“And don’t you forget it,” replies Elyse, adding a winking face with its tongue sticking out for good measure. Ian grins to herself, pockets her phone and begins heading back to where she had parked her car. She’s comforted by the knowledge that no matter how much of a mess her love life is, at least she’ll still have Elyse there to cheer her up. She thinks she’s going to need that tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to cry over hinckber or just eza in general, talk to me [on tumblr](http://jollyhuber.tumblr.com)!!


End file.
